Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 20, 2025
It was near the bench where my own people sat, and, for one flash of thought, I longed that the butterfly would alight on my Wynnie, for I was more anxious about her resurrection at the time than about anything else. But the butterfly would not.
"O, papa! poor Connie!" cried Dora, and burst into fresh tears. Wynnie said nothing, but knelt down by my knee, and laid her cheek upon it. "Shall I tell you what Constance said to me just before I left the room?" I asked. "Please do, papa." "She whispered, 'You must try to bear it, all of you, as well as you can.
And, besides, I think if we could help any of them, the very persons that enjoyed the storm the most would be the busiest to rescue them from it. At least, I fancy so. But isn't the tea ready?" "Yes, papa. I'll just go and tell mamma." When she returned with her mother, and the children had joined us, Wynnie resumed the talk.
At the worst, she is now far better than when she came. Try her. Hint at the possibility of going home, and see how she will take it." "Well, I sha'n't like to be left alone; but if she goes they must all go, except, perhaps, I might keep Wynnie. But I don't know how her mother would get on without her." "I don't see why you should stay behind. Mr.
Do try to find some one that does, Wynnie." "I don't know how to set about it," I said. "I should be only too glad." "I will try," said Roger. "Does she sing?" "I have heard Judy say she sang divinely; but the only occasion on which I met her at their house, that time you couldn't go, Percivale she was never asked to sing."
"But," said Wynnie, who, I thought afterwards, must have strengthened herself to speak from the instinctive desire to show Percivale how far she was from being out of sympathy with what he might suppose formed a barrier between him and me "But," she said, "the lovely feeling in that poem seems to me, as in all the rest of such poems, to belong only to the New Testament, and have nothing to do with this world round about us.
The undoubted concern on the faces of the two boys was enough to reveal that something serious and painful had occurred; while my wife and Wynnie, and indeed the whole household, were busy in attending to every remotest suggestion of aid that reached them from the little crowd gathered about the body.
Even the children had rushed out to tell what other children they could find. "What must we do next?" said my husband. Miss Clare thought for a moment. "I would go and tell Mr. Blackstone," she said. "It is a long way from here, but whoever has taken the child would not be likely to linger in the neighborhood. It is best to try every thing." "Right," said my husband. "Come, Wynnie."
Wynnie made me no reply, but, weeping silently, clung to my arm. We walked a long way by the edge of the cliffs, beheld the sun go down, and then turned and went home. When we reached the house, Wynnie left me, saying only, "Thank you, papa. I think it is all true. I will try to be a better girl." I went straight to Connie's room: she was lying as I saw her last, looking out of her window.
"Now I know that as an artist I have succeeded, however I may have failed otherwise. I did so mean it; but knowing you would dislike the picture, I almost hoped in my cowardice, as I said, that you would read your own meaning into it." Wynnie had not said a word.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking